


Maybe if You Hold Me Then All of This Will Go Away

by jbird181



Series: I Wanna Get Better [2]
Category: Saturday Night Live, Saturday Night Live RPF, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Copious amounts of hand-holding, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of drugs, New York's Hottest Lobster, Perpetual Glitter, Sharing Clothes, Therapy, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 03:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbird181/pseuds/jbird181
Summary: If Stefon was left to his own devices, he’d still be in bed right now, which does sound delightful. But, as anxious as Stefon feels right now, he knows it’ll be good for him, like the exfoliating gravel baths at Hush, or cooked carrots, or being on Update for the first time.Or, Stefon's nervous to attend his first therapy session, but Seth is always there for him.





	Maybe if You Hold Me Then All of This Will Go Away

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of what I've planned to be a five part series. I suggest you read the first part, [We're Hollow Like the Bottles That We Drain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190000) before this. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> The title is from [Budapest by George Ezra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHrLPs3_1Fs).

“Are you ready to go?”

“Almost.” Stefon returns to the doorway of their bedroom juggling two pairs of almost identical boots. “Which ones should I wear? See, I like these ones, but I don’t know if the buckles go with my outfit, you know? They’re a little dressy. These are cute, but are they too plain?” He inspects both pairs in the soft gray light coming through the windows.

“You’re stalling again,” Seth points out.

Stefon sighs dramatically and shoves the boots into Seth’s arms before disappearing back into their bedroom. He pulls open their closet door in search of a specific jacket, the red one that’s a little to big with the hood he likes to flip up. It used to be Seth’s, but it now spends much more time on Stefon’s person than in Seth’s closet. Seth must have washed it or something, because it’s been placed on a hanger tucked up between dress shirts and slacks. When Stefon slips it on, though, it still smells like Seth, which immediately eases the tightness in his chest.

The jacket’s not quite warm enough for the winter weather, so Stefon will have to throw another jacket over it and probably boil alive like New York’s hottest lobster, but it’s so worth it.

Stefon can’t see it, but he’s acutely aware of the weed stashed on the shelf right by his head. He’s tempted to smoke a little, just to take the edge off, but if he takes the time to roll a joint, he’ll probably be late to his first therapy appointment, and Stefon firmly believes the only time you should be late is if you’re making a grand entrance.

Besides, he should probably be mostly sober for this.

He shuts the door and turns back to Seth, who’s leaning against the wall like the model he could still be if he wanted. Stefon has some connections if he ever changes his mind.

“Seth,” he says patiently, “Which boots should I wear?” Seth hands him the sleek black ones without the buckles. “Good choice,” muses Stefon, slipping them on. He’s a few inches taller than Seth with them on. He’s not sure exactly how he feels about that. It’s different, and while usually he might enjoy the way Seth has to tilt up to kiss him, putting his handsome jaw on display, right now Stefon feels kinda floaty and shaky and he really just wants Seth to lie on top of him, a warm solid pressure, until his body feels like it belongs to him again.

God, he could really use a joint right now.

...

Stefon crosses and uncrosses his legs, trying to get comfortable on the subway seat. Stefon had protested Seth taking the morning off work to take him to his appointment, but when Seth laces his fingers through Stefon’s, he’s more grateful than he can voice. If Stefon was left to his own devices, he’d still be in bed right now, which does sound delightful. But, as anxious as Stefon feels right now, he knows it’ll be good for him, like the exfoliating gravel baths at _Hush_ , or cooked carrots, or being on Update for the first time.

Seth is absentmindedly stroking Stefon’s thumb with his own, which is even better than the bloody Barry’s at Slush. “Are you going to go back home to work or do you want café recommendations?”

“I’ll take a recommendation.”

“New York’s hottest cafe is _Don’t be Latte_. It has everything: espresso, frappuccinos, upside down grandfather clocks, and if you go between one o’clock and three fifty-six in the morning, you might be served by Matthew Dam-off.”

“Matthew Dam-off?”

“Yeah, he’s Matt Damon’s evil twin, and he only works in the dark. However, I am contractually obligated to mention the one I work at. It’s not haunted by the ghosts of any Elvis impersonators and you can’t do a pole dance for a discount, and no one will ever let me play my Swiss screamo, or Burmese bluegrass, or Sudanese ska, but the stools swivel and you’ll get 10% off your drink because of me.”

Seth kisses his forehead. “That sounds great. I’ll pick you up at eleven when your appointment’s done and we can get lunch, okay?”

Stefon leans his head on Seth’s shoulder briefly before lifting it back up. “Okay.”

They wait on the scratchy, red chairs in the sitting area of the therapist’s office together until Stefon’s name is called, and then Seth kisses him goodbye and Stefon knows he must not be hiding his anxiety as well as he thought because Seth is usually not this affectionate in public. He’s shy, which is understandable especially because he’s such a hot celebrity and as much as their relationship developed on live TV, there are some things that should be private. It’s certainly a change from Stefon’s ex, who was an exhibitionist. It was fun, for sure, but any time they went out to eat, by the time they were done having sex in the bathroom, Stefon’s food was almost always cold, which was a bummer. This is all besides the point though, because Stefon isn’t looking to have semi-public sex, but a kiss is nice.

“11:00,” says Stefon.

“I’ll be there at 10:59,” Seth promises, and the thing is, Stefon knows sweet, normal, punctual Seth means it.

 ...

“Hi, Stefon, it’s nice to meet you,” smiles Stefon’s therapist. Dr. Ramirez. Laura.

“Hi.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

Stefon does. There’s not a couch like he imagined, instead a comfy chair. He crosses and uncrosses his legs.

“Have you ever been to therapy before, Stefon?”

“No.”

“Okay, well for our first session, I’d like you to tell me a little about yourself and what you want to work on together. Does that sound good?”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Well, how do you spend your time, Stefon?”

It’s hard for Stefon to tear his eyes from the picture on her wall, or maybe it’s a photo. He can’t tell. But it’s of a beach somewhere. He should take Seth to a beach. “Well, I work at this cafe, and I also write sometimes. I used to write for _Smash_ , actually. And I spend time with my boyfriend. I used to go out a lot, but I don’t like doing that anymore.”

“Can I ask why?”

Stefon pulls his cuffs over his hands and tucks them under his legs. “I don’t know, it just makes me feel… bad.”

Dr. Ramirez makes a note, which, wow, is scarier than Stefon expected. She really doesn’t talk a lot.

“You might know my boyfriend, Seth Meyers? He stars on his own TV show.”

“He’s on a little past my bedtime, but I’m sure he’s a great host.”

Stefon smiles despite himself. “He’s amazing.”

“Can you tell me a little about your family?”

“Oh.” Stefon steeples his hands over his face. “Um… I haven’t talked to my parents in a while. My brother’s cool though. He writes movies. I stayed with him a little when I first got to New York, went on a couple pitches with him. My brother loves me, but he doesn’t understand me.”

David probably wouldn’t approve of these boots. Not that he’s say anything, his eyes would just purposefully skate over Stefon’s boots, or necklace, or fishnet sleeves, or the glitter that seems to trail Stefan everywhere. In freshman year, Stefon started - and stopped - making his own clothes. He remembers the look on his brother’s face as he wiped the blood off Stefon’s upper lip and helped him brush off his not-artfully-distressed-but-torn jeans.

“Why do you wear this sh- stuff, Stefon?” he’d asked. “You know it’s why they pick on you.”

Stefon had shrugged, a little petulantly. “I like this stuff.”

“ _Stefon_ …”

Stefon had shouldered his backpack.

David sighed. “Could you at least try to wear normal clothes?”

Stefon was wearing a blue shirt with fringe on the bottom and the sleeves he’d cut himself. He shrugged again, noncommittal. His face still stung, and he couldn’t see it, but he could feel the blood drying tacky on his chin where David didn’t get it all.

“Think about it. Mom’s gonna freak if she sees you like this.” David ended up running interference while Stefon snuck upstairs to wash himself off and press band-aids to the scrapes on his knees. “I fell on the sidewalk,” he ended up telling her, which was not technically a lie.

Stefon fiddles with the zipper on his/Seth’s jacket. “I always got along best with my little sister.”

Becca found out, because of course she did. She always manages to find out what’s going on with Stefon, even though they live twenty hours apart now. “Don’t listen to whatever they say to you,” she’d demanded. “They’re _nobodies_. They’re just gonna work at McDonald’s their whole lives. You and me? We’re going places!”

The only place Stefon thought he was going was into the ground, but he nodded along anyway.

 

He doesn’t tell his therapist that.

 ...

“How was it?” asks Seth when the hour is up.

“It was good I guess.” Stefon puts his coat back over the other jacket and immediately starts sweating, but the heat and pressure of the cloth is worth it. The press of Seth’s hand on his shoulder is even better. “Can we not talk about it right now?”

Seth’s expression droops imperceptibly, but his tone stays the same: careful, a little too upbeat. “What do you want to do for lunch?”

“Can we bring pizza back to your office?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Seth takes his hand again outside, and Stefon swings their joined hands slightly as they walk back to the subway. “Who are the guests tonight?”

“Cory Booker is back-”

“Again?”

“And Marie Kondo.”

“Oh, I love her! Maybe she can help me declutter my brain,” Stefon laughs, and it feels so good. “I’m kind of a mess.”

“I don’t think you’re a mess, Stefon,” Seth frowns, which isn’t the reaction Stefon was expecting.

He laughs it off. “Then you’re wrong. I’m a _hot_ mess.”

Seth laughs a steals a kiss. “You’re certainly that.”


End file.
